


Jaidan IRL

by kam



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: AU, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-28
Updated: 2018-06-12
Packaged: 2019-02-07 20:15:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 6,729
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12848688
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kam/pseuds/kam
Summary: Hiii! So, murphamy prompt for you: you know how the actors have said they ship murphamy, too? I had this idea about a fic (not an RPF, more like fictionalized versions of the actors) where the two of them get into it for the sake of the fans but then fall in love for real. To keep it from having an RPF feel, the names can be swapped so that the TV characters are Morley and Harmon and the 'actors' names are Bellamy and Murphy. Their ship name would be Harmoney.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Griselda_Howl](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Griselda_Howl/gifts).



He kissed me one day. Out of the blue, right on the mouth. I didn't know what to do so I defaulted to the last time someone had kissed me - Emori grabbing me by the collar and pulling me back onto the stupid awful ‘boat’ and twining her arms around my neck. Her breath tasted like cinnamon and it made my lips itch, and the coarse fabric of her head wrap did the same to my cheeks. It was kind of awful, the way all onscreen kisses are. I didn't like it, but I also didn't have to like it: I just had to catch the front of her shirt and pull her body closer to mine. I had to pretend. Because that's my job. So I pretended, and I caught the front of his shirt and pulled his body closer all before I realised that these were the wrong kind of cameras and this was not part of the show. This was a lunch date with my costar and lowkey best friend (though I hadn't told him that yet and maybe didn't plan to) and instead of the fancy steadicams they used on set these were cell phone cameras and instead of the professionally trained camera crew these were teenage girls and it was all wrong and it wasn't even a good kiss except his breath tasted like queso and his long hair brushed my temple and there was something so honest about that. It wasn't a real kiss, no more than the one with Emori had been. But it felt like it could be. 

By the time we ducked into my building I was ready to throttle him. He'd slipped his hand in my back pocket as we'd walked away and when I grabbed his wrist to pull it out, he somehow moved so that we were holding hands. Or, he was holding my hand, at least. I heard the shutters ‘click click’ing as we walked away, and I relaxed my body and moved a little faster.  
“What the fuck dude? What the fuck?”  
“I was talking with Clarke.”  
“And she said you should fucking surprise kiss me in front of a group of fans?”  
“...not in so many words.”  
He was blushing but also grinning and I had the strongest urge to kiss him in that moment (‘get him back’ my mind screamed) but I didn't because I am 26 goddamn years old and not 7.  
“Why.”  
“You know they ship us.”  
“They ship Jasper and Aidan, not us. They don't know us.”  
“C'mon, Murphy. You know what I mean. They want us to be together and Clarke and I thought… I don't know, it would be funny but also kind of nice. For them. They never get to see this kind of thing happen for real.”  
“Yeah because in real life you don't get to decide people's sexuality for them just because they look cute or have good chemistry with someone!”  
“Murphy you're not straight. Even Finn figured that out.”  
“Yeah but you are.”  
“Yeah but it's not real! It's just like a game. For the fans, you know? To make them happy. Jaidan irl.”  
“Did you really just say ‘irl’? Out loud?”  
“Murphy.”  
“No, Bellamy.”  
“Murphy…”  
“Still no.”  
“Please?”  
“For fuck’s sake, Bellamy.”  
“It'll be fun!”  
And I groaned because I knew he'd won. He always did. Even on something as absolutely ridiculous as pretending to be in a relationship with my straight, male costar to please our fans. Because he was my best friend and I was shit at saying no to him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> couple things:  
> you gave me this prompt and i took half of it and ignored the rest. maybe like 3/4 of it.  
> i am posting this now even though i am obviously not done bc i am hoping it will inspire me to write more and also to show you that i have not in fact given up on this - it's just slow going.
> 
> but look they already kissed so like i feel like i'm pretty far ahead of the game, you know?


	2. Chapter 2

The producers were not happy. They thought it was a terrible, stupid idea - and we didn't even tell them it was fake. Raven laughed for about an hour, possibly _because_ we didn't tell her it was fake. Octavia was pissed until Clarke pulled her aside and then she was still pissed but for a different reason. She told Bellamy he was never allowed to say anything about her and Lincoln ever again, and he rolled his eyes and told her no way.  
Lincoln thought it was funny. Finn was kind of weirded out but not like, because we were both dudes. I think just because it was us. I don't know. I don't think it was the gay thing. It could've been.

Clarke went into overdrive, planning out our next move.  
“You have to make a statement,”  
she insisted, after showing us the videos that were popping up all over the place. There were news articles and blog posts and probably like, a billion new ‘Jaidan’ tumblrs. It was too fucking much, honestly, and Octavia followed me into the bathroom when I went to try to have a nice, private panic attack.  
“It's your own fucking fault,”  
she pointed out from her perch on the sink, and I groaned and let my head thunk against the wall.  
“Couldn't you just one time be a caring and supportive friend?”  
She sighed, coming to kneel in front of me and take my hand.  
“John, I care about you, and I will support you through this trying time that you brought on yourself by your own stupid fucking decisions.”  
I'm not sure if the wall had gotten more solid between the first and second times I hit my head, but it sure as hell felt like it.

He came to my flat with beer that evening, knocked on the door and held one out when I opened it.  
“It's not too late,”  
he told me, and I wasn't entirely sure what he meant so I held the beer up to my lips and half-sang,  
“It's never too late.”  
He rolled his eyes, shouldering past me to stretch out on my bed and I swear to God, the thoughts that _would've_ been running through my head if we really _were_ dating were more than enough to bring a blush to my cheeks.  
“I'm serious, Murphy. We can back out, still. If you want. Octavia told me about…”  
“Octavia is literally the worst friend I've ever had and I don't know why I tell her anything.”  
He leaned up on his elbows, his beer forgotten on the bedside table.  
“Is it that bad, Murphy? It's not worth it, if it's that bad.”  
I was ready to tell him yes, it was that bad and I couldn't do it. I'm a good sport and I could shrug it off, make it through, but I didn't want to. I wanted it to be over. I still didn't entirely understand his motivation - giving the fans a taste of ‘Jaidan IRL’ didn't seem worth all of this, but maybe there was something I wasn't getting. There must've been. And I would be damned if I was going to wimp out on this _hilarious joke_ that happened to mean I got to spend extra time with Bellamy and maybe touch him more than was strictly normal and kiss him occasionally, even if it was all part of the joke. So instead I said,  
“It's fine,”  
and my voice cracked and he laughed at me and patted the bed and I sat with him and we drank our beers and talked about nothing, really, which is something Bellamy does better than anyone else I know.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> here's part two. i am not super good at this kind of story and i keep just wanting to have them confess and do the do but i've read enough of these to know that's not how it's done.  
> i am trying.


	3. Chapter 3

So now I was committed to the game. Which meant a lot of stupid things like having to be on the phone with my sister for three hours, explaining how yes, I knew it was stupid to date a costar and no, I wasn't _really_ and no, I didn't know why we were pretending and yes, it was a stupid fucking game to be playing and yes, I was also fucking furious with me.  
But it also meant some kind of ok things like one day Bellamy came over and forced me to spend an hour and a half practising standing next to him, close enough to touch and to smell his cologne and brushing his hand, just gentle, so that he would lace his fingers through mine and tilting my head at him, like I maybe wanted to rest against him or like I maybe wanted a kiss, because he had worked it all out in his head, that he was aggressively embracing his newfound queerness, daring anyone to say anything by refusing to keep his hands off me, while I was reticent, shy and nervous but loving his hands on me and I rolled my eyes and blushed and asked if I was going to get a script or something and he kissed me and I fell off my chair.  
“You have to be ready!”  
“No, you have to warn me!”  
He took a deep breath and looked at me very seriously.  
“I refuse to believe that gay people warn their partner every time they want a kiss.”  
“You wouldn't fucking know, would you?”  
He grinned, and I couldn't remember why I'd been annoyed for a moment.  
“I'm not used to it. It's still… It's still _Bellamy_ kissing _me_. It needs to be Aidan kissing Jasper. That's all.”

I was kind of finally getting used to it, to him putting his hands on me and kissing me (not on the lips, I couldn't get used to that. But he would kiss my forehead or my hair or my nose, sometimes, and I could handle that,) and everything. Then he came into my trailer and said,  
“We need to go on a date,”  
and I spit soda down my shirt and he almost fell over laughing.  
“We what,”  
I finally managed, and he perched on the counter, grinning at me.  
“We need to go on a date. It's the next logical step. I'll take you to dinner or something.”  
“I don't want to go to dinner,”  
and goddamn if he didn't look hurt for just half a second.  
“Lunch, then,”  
he amended, and I sighed.  
“Do we have to pretend? Can't it just be like when we go to lunch, like normal?”  
“Just a little. We have to sell it, Murph. A little hand-holding, a couple kisses. No big deal.”  
Which was easy for him to fucking say but I nodded anyway and he grinned.  
“Perfect! Tomorrow?”

I spent twenty minutes choosing a shirt.  
“This is why people have stylists,” I reminded myself, sending a sixth text to my sister. She answered a moment later - ‘Wear the white one and leave me alone.’ - and I sighed and dug the white one out from under the nine other shirts piled on my bed. She was right (she always is, but don't tell her I said that) and I took a few deep breaths before grabbing my favourite toque and heading out. We were meeting at the restaurant - our restaurant, at least in my head, the same place all of this started. And he was waiting for me when I got there, a soft smile and open arms and what was I meant to do but fold into him, press my face into his shoulder and breathe deep? That was the game - I was just playing my part. And if my heart was skipping every third beat it was probably just because I'm a _really_ good actor.

What I didn't like, what I absolutely could not stand was that he would find the littlest ways to touch me, to maintain contact. He slipped two fingers through the belt loop on my jeans while we stood in line - not possessive, not showy, just a tiny point of contact. Enough that I stumbled on my order and accidentally asked for guac, even though I hate it. He brushed his thumb under the hem of my shirt and repeated my order without guac, then switched our trays when we sat down.  
“You don't like guacamole,”  
he reminded me, catching my feet between his under the table and pressing his bare ankles to mine.  
“I know that,”  
I grumbled, tearing off bits of tortilla and chewing them slowly. I wasn't hungry, hadn't really been since he told me we were going on a date the day before. But I was sitting there with a burrito and my fake boyfriend in front of me, and I had to do something. I glanced around, wondering if anyone else had noticed my dilemma. There was a girl in the corner recording us on her phone, and a man out front who had snapped our picture as Bellamy hugged me. And then there was Bellamy, who was watching me but also actually eating his food.   
“You're not eating,”  
he pointed out, and I reached out without thinking to wipe the smear of green off his chin. He caught my hand, pressing a kiss to my palm, and I froze as a camera went off, then another. The third flash broke the spell and I felt myself slip fully into the role. He was Aidan, and I was Jasper, and we were in love and everything was ok. I smiled at him, blushing faintly and turning my face slightly away from the cameras. I was embarrassed, obviously, but I wasn't upset - why should I mind being caught on camera with my boyfriend? I finished wiping his chin and took a bite of my food. Everything was ok. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯  
> i have no idea what i'm doing soz


	4. Chapter 4

Everything stopped being ok about twelve minutes after he dropped me off at my place. That was when I stopped being Jasper and started being John again, and this time Octavia wasn't there to watch me so I went ahead and had a real panic attack, complete with ugly-crying and hyperventilating. I really pulled out all the stops and it was probably the best panic attack I'd have all year.

I called Lincoln, of all people, once I'd finished. I told him I didn't want to talk but could he just tell me things, just let me listen to his voice, and he said sure and started talking and I don't remember a goddamn thing he said but my phone says he talked for twenty minutes before I told him thank you and said goodbye. I texted Octavia once my phone had cooled down.  
‘You should marry Linc.’  
‘Why?’  
‘Because he talked to me.’  
‘Oh, Murphy.’

Octavia knew, what it meant. Why I needed to hear a familiar voice. She knew, which is exactly why I didn't call her and instead I called her boyfriend and oh, God, she was going to explain it to him and he'd know. Octavia very firmly believed that the only way to deal with mental illness was to own it and she was very open about her anger issues and the things that happened to her when she was a child, and she didn't understand why I never talked about my stuff. She never told anyone, except probably Lincoln because she also very firmly believed in open communication in romantic relationships, but she respected my privacy as much as I could hope anyone would. More so. I couldn't help but wish she didn't know everything she knew, though.

I knew he was ready to start in about the panic attack Octavia had undoubtedly told him about when he knocked on my door and kind of very gently pushed past me. He had that look in his eyes, and so I did the only thing I could think of - I grabbed him by the collar and kissed him. And I didn't entirely mean to burst into laughter as I pulled away, and that certainly wasn't going to help my case that I was totally fine. But it was funny, kissing Bellamy like that. That I was allowed to. That it was a game we were playing, kissing one another without meaning it. Pretending I didn't. That was the real game, anyway. Pretending I didn't mean any of the soft looks or gentle kisses or touches. So I kissed him and I laughed about it because it was funny but not for the reason he must have thought.  
I didn't expect him to grin and then start laughing too. I should've, probably. Because it's all a joke, it's all a game and he knows that more than I ever will. So of course he would laugh at kissing.  
“Ok, ok,”  
he was smiling as he nuzzled at my hair, one arm around my shoulders.  
“We won't talk about it.”  
And I smiled too because for the first time in my life, I'd used kissing to get what I wanted. It was a heady feeling, even if the kissing was fake and what I wanted was for my pretend boyfriend to not ask about the real panic attack I had after our first pretend date.  
But whatever, man, I would take what I could get.

I made popcorn and grabbed some beer from the fridge while Bellamy set the film up - we had movie night every Monday, if we weren't out filming or whatever. That was maybe when I realised Bellamy was my best friend, when this became a thing we did and I realised that he wanted to commit to spending time with me. Which is maybe not the most common thing in the world.  
I perched on the arm of the sofa - normally, I would start on one end and wind up on my stomach on the floor, while Bellamy took the other end and didn't move except to sit forward and grab some popcorn from the bowl. He turned the lights off and came over, but instead of taking his end of the sofa he sat on my end, pulling me down into his lap and rescuing the bowl of popcorn when I almost dropped it.  
"Bell?"  
"Yeah,"  
his eyes were focussed on the screen, and he put a piece of popcorn in his mouth absentmindedly.  
"Are we sitting like this?"  
"Yeah,"  
he glanced at me, one corner of his mouth quirked up in a smile, and I rolled my eyes. Clearly we were still in 'practise mode', and I honestly kind of resented that this was taking over even movie night but I settled back against his chest and grabbed some popcorn and nursed my beer and really did my best to focus on the film. But I could feel his breath and hear his heartbeat and after about twenty minutes he wrapped his arm around my waist and began to stroke his thumb up and down my hip and I think I could maybe name two of the characters and that's about it.

Over the next few weeks, he did lots of weird little things like that. We would be all alone, on set or at my place or at his place or wherever, and no one would be there, no one would be watching, and he would still pull me close, press gentle kisses to my forehead or run his fingers through my hair or put his hands on my body like it really was his. Like _I_ really was his. And we'd both gotten really good at pretending.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> isthisok.jpg


	5. Chapter 5

I had to start drawing some lines, so I did. For me, I mean. Bellamy was fine, he was doing what he'd said he would do - pretending to be in love with me to make our fans happy. Which still didn't entirely make sense to me but who am I to argue? So I started setting boundaries for myself.  
First off, I wasn't allowed to touch him unless he initiated. Because it was getting harder and harder not to, with how he was acting all the damn time ( _act_ _ing_ being the operative word.) He was pretending to be in love with me like no damn tomorrow and I  _had_ to keep my head because if I started believing, it would all be over. All of this, but also our friendship, which I'd been so careful with. So that was not an option, to ruin it all by falling in love with my best friend.  
Letting him realise I was in love with him, that is.  
Second, I laughed whenever he kissed me. I pretended to pretend that it was because it made me so happy, but really it was to pretend that it was all a joke, and to remind myself that it was, for him. To him this was all a game, and I had to make it very clear that it was for me, too. I had to make it so clear that maybe I'd even start believing it.  
Because third, I had to remember that Bellamy was straight. He'd be more likely to fall in love with _Clarke_ than with me, and I had to remember that no matter how much it hurt. There was no way he was going to  _actually_ fall in love with me, and I had to keep that in mind always.  
And anyway, I didn't want to make him uncomfortable. Just because _I_ got a little electric thrill every time we kissed didn't mean he did - he didn't, because to him it was just another acting exercise, no more intimate or exciting than when I kissed Emori. It never would be, because the vast majority of straight guys don't get off on kissing other guys, or touching them, or holding them, or any of the other things Bellamy did to me. None of it meant anything to him, and I couldn't let him know it meant anything to me. That would be like getting a boner during a sex scene - you just don't fucking do it because it makes everyone uncomfortable.  
So that was that, and fourth of all, I had to keep myself from thinking too hard about how Bellamy was now pretending to be my boyfriend pretty much all the time.

If you wanted to blame someone, which I fucking did, I guess you could maybe blame the director who cast me in a bit part in this Australian film which meant I had to take three weeks and go to Perth and shoot in the 8 million degree heat and it was miserable and I hated it but my agent swore it would be very good for me so I did it but I didn't like it.  
What that also meant was that I didn't see Bellamy for three weeks, which is I'm pretty sure the longest we've been apart since we became friends and texting and video calls are one thing but they're not movie nights and drinking beer together and they certainly aren't kissing and touching and pretending to love each other.  
And what that meant was that the day I got back, at 2:30 in the goddamn morning, there was a text waiting for me when I landed - 'come over.' So I did, because it was 2:30 and I was exhausted and not thinking and when I knocked on the door I was ready to crash on the sofa for a few hours or maybe stay up and have a beer and talk or something but I was _not_ ready for Bellamy to grab me around the waist and kiss me like he hadn't ever done before. I was not ready for his hands to tangle in my shirt and my hair, and I was not ready for him to pull me tight against his body, and I was not ready for his tongue in my mouth or the noise he made in his throat when I grabbed his shoulders to keep from falling the way my bag had when he pulled me inside.  
I was not ready for the sound he made when I wrenched free, or the way his voice sounded when he told me he was sorry.

I left my bag in the hall and I took a cab home and by some stroke of magic I had my keys in my pocket so I was able to let myself in and I went straight to bed and I absolutely did not cry at all before I passed out and literally no one can prove that I did. So there's that.


	6. Chapter 6

I knew I would have to face him eventually. I would have to let him explain what happened - clearly he was drunk, and I knew he'd be just as embarrassed as I was. Maybe more. But I really didn't want to, I didn't want to see him smile self-consciously and explain how kissing me like that, _really_ kissing me, was an awful mistake and he hadn't meant it. Or worse, if he didn't say anything at all. Because it didn't mean anything, it was just a mistake to be ignored and never mentioned again.  
If I was just a mistake.

When Octavia asked me what the hell was going on, I knew it was time to man up and call him. It was time to get on the phone and say all the things that normal people said when someone made a huge, disastrous mistake. Only, I had no idea what those things were. So instead I texted him, but I asked him to come over and I didn't say 'we need to talk' because oh my god that is the WORST thing to ever read in a text message from anyone. But I think it was implied.  
I hope it was.

When Bellamy came over, he almost immediately moved like he was going to kiss me, but he pulled back at the last second and I took a deep breath and went to the kitchen to make tea so I wouldn't have to think about whether I wanted him to have kissed me or not. And of course, I obviously spent the seven minutes it takes to make a good cup of tea thinking about just that.  
Because I'm an idiot.

He was sitting awkwardly on the sofa when I came around the counter, and he grinned at me and then looked away and his cheeks were bright red and his freckles stood out and oh my god I was so in love with him I literally felt like throwing up. It was a physical ache in my stomach and I felt like someone had punched me. I was going to vomit and then the whole thing would be even more ruined than it already was. But this time it would be my fault, which would at least make me feel more normal.  
Then he said my name, and it was all downhill from there.

"I'm sorry about the other night, Murphy. John. I shouldn't have done that."  
My throat was dry and my tongue felt like a huge wad of cotton and I could barely coordinate it enough to choke out,  
"I can't do this anymore."  
His eyes went wide, and there was fear there and I felt the bile rising in my throat but luckily all that came out was words.  
"I can't, Bell. I can't keep pretending, I can't be around you when you pretend. It's not right. It doesn't feel right. I know I said I could do it and I'm sorry, I really am. But I can't. It's just too much, and I'm sorry. But I can't keep pretending you're in love with me."  
I didn't say the rest, hoped he would assume it - 'I can't keep pretending to be in love with you'.  
"John, I..."  
"I don't care what we tell people, I'll go along with whatever. But I can't do this."  
"John..."  
"We have to stop pretending."  
"John,"  
he didn't yell, didn't really raise his voice. But I stopped, finally, and his eyes were darker than I remembered them being as he looked at me from not really that far away. Then he said five words that absolutely destroyed me.  
"What if I'm not pretending?"

I broke, then, and I just made it to the bathroom before I really did throw up. Before I was even done he was there, rubbing my back and murmuring gently to me, asking if I was ok and was I sick and please, John, what's wrong?  
"What's wrong?"  
I shrugged his hand off and got up shakily, spitting into the sink.  
"What's _wrong_ , Bellamy? What the _fuck_ do you think is wrong?"  
"What I said?"  
"Yes, what you fucking said!"  
"I'm not. Pretending, that is. Not anymore. I was. But I'm not..."  
"Bellamy, look at me. What do you notice?"  
"You look like shit?"  
"I'm a _guy_ , Bellamy. And you're straight. So tell me again about how you're not pretending? Straight guys don't fall in love with other guys. That's literally the point."  
"I know that. I don't know. I guess I'm... Like you. I don't know."  
"Like me? You're not 'like me', Bellamy. I don't know what's wrong with you, but you're not, and you're not in love with me. That's just... It's not how things _work_!"  
"How do things work, John? Why won't you listen to me? I know it doesn't make sense but I just... When you were gone, I realised that I can't be without you. Not like how I can't be without Octavia or Clarke. If they went away, I would miss them. I do miss them. But it's not... You know I'm not good with words. I can't explain how much it hurt, when you were gone. How much it hurts to think about you smiling at anyone else, or touching someone... I can't. And I couldn't get away from those thoughts while you were gone and that's why I kissed you. Because I love you."  
If there had been anything in my stomach, I might've vomited again. Instead I just wiped roughly at my eyes and pushed his hand away when he tried to touch my face.  
"Why won't you believe me,"  
his voice was quiet again, low and sad, and I didn't know what to say so I just told the truth.  
"Because it would hurt too much if I did. Because I know you're wrong - you're probably not lying, you probably really think you're in love with me. But you're not, and if I let myself believe, even for a second, that you were... It would hurt too much when you realised. I don't want to, I want to put this all behind us and go back to how we were, but I can live without you, Bellamy. But I can't live with it if I let myself believe you love me, and then have to go back to knowing you don't."


	7. Chapter 7

I don't remember him leaving my apartment. I don't really remember much of anything after I basically admitted to being in love with him. I think I took a shower, and I know I curled up on the sofa wrapped in a blanket, because that's where I was when I woke up with damp hair. I had missed three calls from Octavia and one from Lincoln. I had seven new texts, and I didn't open any of them.

Everything was fine - a word which here means 'absolutely awful but contained to my apartment' - until Octavia began pounding on my door and wouldn't stop. I lasted about three minutes, which I think is admirable. I doubt I'd qualify for the 'ignoring your best friend knocking on your door like she fucking owns it' Olympic team but I'd probably be like, a semi-finalist, or something.  
I know that's not a real thing.

"What the hell do you want,"  
it took everything in me to pretend to be annoyed with her. I mean, I was - she'd been fucking banging on my door for three entire minutes. That's two minutes and fifty seconds longer than any normal person does that. But I was relieved to see her. I'd spent an entire day just lying on the floor in front of the sofa, staring at the ceiling and thinking about all the ways I'd fucked everything up. It was a long list, so it was nice to have an interruption, a break in the monotony of self-loathing.  
"What the hell do I _want_? What the hell do you _think_  I want, John? For fuck's sake! Bellamy called me!"  
I dropped myself back onto the sofa, rolling off to land on the floor in my nest of blankets. Of course Bellamy had called Octavia. Of course. Although.  
"That's not fair. You're _my_  best friend, not his. He should've called Clarke.  _I_ should've called you."  
"Yeah, you fucking should've!"  
"Oh."  
And she was right, obviously, because she generally is. I should've called her and I should've cried to her and I should've told her a long time ago that I was in love with Bellamy but I hadn't done any of that and it felt too late now.  
"Bellamy told me that he..."  
"I'm in love with him,"  
I guess Three Days Grace was right, after all.

Octavia went into the kitchen and I recognised the sounds of ice clinking into a glass and then liquid being poured - she'd broken into my liquor stash.  
"Bring me one,"  
I called, and she called back,  
"No."  
So I didn't get a drink.

"Are you joking,"  
she asked, when she finally came back. She was on her second drink, and I could hardly blame her.  
"I am not."  
"Are you stupid?"  
"Yes."  
"For God's sake, John."  
I didn't really know what to say to that, so I waited for her to go on.  
"I don't understand,"  
she said, finally.  
"Isn't the whole issue that he fell in love with you? That's what he told me."  
"He didn't."  
"Yes, he did, he said..."  
"No, I mean, he didn't fall in love with me. Not really."  
"You think he's lying? For what, for this little game you two are playing? You think he'd do that?"  
"No! No, he wouldn't. Not Bellamy."  
"Then what?"  
"I think he _thinks_  he's in love with me. But he's not really. He's straight, Octavia."  
"Maybe he is, maybe he isn't."  
"Pretty sure he is."  
"That doesn't matter, though. He can still be in love with you."  
"Look, Octavia, unless I've been _severely_  misinformed, he literally can't. Like, that's a prerequisite of being straight, is that you're not gay. They're mutually exclusive. I'm like 90% sure about this."  
"It's a spectrum, dumbass. You should know that, Mr. "Kiss Me, I'm Bi." There are grey areas."  
"This is not one of them!"

Don't get me wrong - I desperately wanted this to be one of them. I wanted it to somehow, magically, be true that Bellamy, my straight, handsome, thoughtful, caring, funny, all-around wonderful best friend had fallen in love with me. But things like that don't happen in real life.  
Of course, when I told Octavia that, she pretended to throw up and then punched me.  
It really hurt because she's been training with Indra and oh my God, that woman is so terrifying it's almost hot. God, she scares me.


	8. Chapter 8

Here's the thing you have to understand about Murphy. He is a fucking rock. In the good way but also in the bad way. He is steady and you can count on him until the end of the world and probably past that, if he thinks you need him. But he's... Hard to read. The first time we hung out, I thought he was having an awesome time but later Octavia told me he'd been losing his mind the entire time and it was one of the worst nights of his life. And it's obvious, now, in retrospect. There were so many little things that gave that away. But if you don't know him fucking intimately, you'd never know.  
Not that I know him _intimately_.  
Not that it'd be your business if i did.  
But I don't.  
Anyway.  
So he's a rock. Nothing in, nothing out. Nothing shakes him, at least on the surface. But here's the thing; secretly, and he'll kill me for telling you this - but he's gonna kill me anyway, so that's fine - he's the most sensitive person you'll ever meet. You'd never know! But he is. He like, cries at those stupid military homecoming videos and when he sees a puppy he loses his shit and when he thinks you're lying, he shuts down. Trust is everything for him. Trust and routine and consistency.  
I guess that's important to me, too.  
So here's what happened.  
I convinced Murphy to lie. I convinced him to lie to everyone, just about, and tell them we were dating. We weren't - we were best friends. Or at least, he was my best friend. But I basically forced him to do this big stupid stunt and I don't even know why. There was no point. It was originally to make everybody happy - we know people 'ship' us. But I don't know if that was the real reason. Maybe I knew, already. I don't know.  
I honestly can't tell you.  
But I got him to do it. It wasn't difficult, Murphy is goddamn ride-or-die. Once he knew I wanted it, he was in. And I knew that and I took advantage of it and I'm so, so sorry.  
Only, not that sorry. Because.  
Here's the thing - we were pretending so hard to be together, we did everything. We kissed and touched and went on dates and showed off and it was so much fun. I... Don't date much. You may have noticed that. I don't like it. But it was fun, to pretend with Murphy. To pretend to kiss and date and fall in love. It was fun.  
Until it stopped being pretend.  
And let me stop here because I'm sorry that we did this as a joke. I'm sorry, because I know some people were so happy and some people felt so validated and, I don't know, _seen_  because of us. So to our lgbtq... Whatever, I'm sorry I don't know the whole thing - to them, I'm sorry. We see you and we love you and you are valid with or without us being in love.  
But that's the thing!  
At first, it was all a joke. It was this big game, this funny little side acting bit. Can we convince everyone we're in love? And we could! It was fun. But then, it stopped being a joke. Because I started to really fall for him.  
In a way, that's when it all fell apart. Because I didn't just start to fall for him. I _f_ _ell_  for him. Hard. I began to notice all the things I'd never noticed before, or re-notice things I already knew, just differently. Like, I knew he was patient. But I hadn't considered how much of my bullshit he puts up with. I knew he was like, objectively handsome. But I'd never noticed how his eyes change colour or like, how his hair falls in his face and the way his fingers are so long? When he brushes it away and it's just... I don't know. I'm sure some of you have noticed. I just never had.  
The way his voice sounds in the morning, when I wake him up. Or right before he goes to bed, on the phone. I'd never noticed.  
I should've noticed before.  
Anyway, then he went away. And that wasn't ok. He'd never been away before. And I realised how much I missed kissing him and all the stupid things we'd been doing for pretend. I missed them and I wanted them back and I think that's when I realised it wasn't pretend for me. I really wanted to kiss him and hold him and I really loved him. And that was really strange for me but I was kind of ok with it.  
So here's the thing. He doesn't believe me. And I don't know what to do. Remember I said he's like a rock? He's stubborn like one, too. I mean. Rocks are stubborn, right? Immovable, and all. So he doesn't believe me, and I don't know how to convince him. This was all I could think of.  
So, youtube, here's the thing. I'm in love with John Murphy, and I used to be pretending but I'm not anymore. This is real. I'm sorry I lied and I'm sorry I made him lie, and I wish I could go back and just ask him on a fucking date instead of orchestrating this whole shitshow. But I didn't, and it's too late now. But I'm hoping it's not too late for this.


End file.
